


The unconventional ways of gentlemen

by TalesoftheEnchantedForest



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dry Humping, First Meetings, Lapdance, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27744721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesoftheEnchantedForest/pseuds/TalesoftheEnchantedForest
Summary: Arthur was not fond of the choice of location for Alfred’s bachelor party. In fact, he would rather spend his night at home with a good book and some tea. However, a handsome dancer might be able to turn his night into a memorable one, especially when Arthur finds the aforementioned man sitting in his lap.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	The unconventional ways of gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: As you’ll probably realize, I do not know how striptease bars work, but I’m pretty sure having sex is against their policy. Proceed with that in mind, and otherwise, I hope you’ll enjoy this story!

The situation was uncomfortable for numerous reasons. To start off, Arthur did not appreciate the location of choice which was presented by a highly enthusiastic Gilbert. The German man's arguments were dependent on the unwritten rules of bachelor parties, which, according to Gilbert's conviction, were always celebrated in striptease bars, or at least, in the company of an exotic dancer. Alfred, the generous bloke he was (and Arthur hoped the sarcasm was evident when he said 'generous'), insisted on sharing the exceptional experience by booking a table at the prestigious _Femme Fatale_. It was a well-known place (at least in Gilbert's words), which offered various options for people who decided to pay the establishment's extraordinary prices. Arthur was impressed, even though he was still pissed off at Alfred for dragging them here. Alfred's wallet will definitely weep in the morning. 

Despite Arthur's utter disdain and fervent resistance, the other members of their group seemed to approve of Gilbert's idea. They were unashamedly staring at the display of delicious skin presented to them, most of them affected by alcohol at this time of the night. Gilbert was trying to seduce one of the waiters dressed in a red silken mini dress with a black leather belt around the waist, black knee-high boots and a red lace robe elegantly pulled over his shoulders. The waiter was noticeably flustered and embarrassed, repeatedly combing back a wayward lock of blond hair behind his ears while his face heated up to a matching colour of his dress. He left their table hurriedly with an inaudible murmur of apology and Arthur had to roll his eyes when Gilbert's gaze lingered on the young man's backside. 

"Stop drooling like an animal. We are civilized men." Arthur berated, anxiously sipping on his iced tea and silently judging everyone around him. 

"Look, Mr Grumpy Old Man," started Gilbert after finally tearing his eyes off of the object of his desires, "We came here to celebrate Alfred's last night as a free man. We are allowed to have some fun! Or would you rather spoil his night?" 

Arthur visibly gulped, eyes immediately glancing at the boisterous man who was presently getting a very scandalous lap dance not far from him. Alfred was smiling, face flushed from the booze he had consumed through the night, but made no attempt to touch the girl between his legs. He kept a respective distance, giving the dancer kind smiles and an overly generous tip. Arthur had known Alfred since they were kids. They were childhood friends who were separated in high school due to differentiation of opinion and their change in personality. Alfred was scooped up and nurtured by the 'jocks', while Arthur belonged to a smaller group of outcasts. They didn't reconcile until they were reintroduced by their shared friend: Kiku. Oh, how lucky Kiku was to be away on a university exchange program! He wasn't forced to suffer through a night of overly priced beverage and a sweat-filled room full of underclothed employees. 

As Arthur's eyes slipped away from the scene, he noticed Matthias chatting up the bartender across the dimly lit room, who was giving him a cold stare in return. Even Feliks seemed to have fun with all the colourful drinks awaiting him on the table, although, his gaze seemed to wander up to the stage where a rather flexibly man was doing his sensual performance. It was captivating, however, definitely not that appealing to the British man. 

Arthur sighed in resignation, crawling down further in his seat, "Alright, I guess I can seal my mouth shut for the night." He owned Alfred this much after being so critical over his relationship. He wanted to prove to Alfred that he could be a supportive friend because no matter the time, Alfred was still important to him. 

Arthur settled down in his seat, preparing himself for a night of agony. He was once again reminded of the reasons for his dismay. Foremost, the uncomfortably tight jeans, which he had dragged out of the depths of his closet just for this night's occasion. He hadn't worn it since his punk phase during high school, but Gilbert was adamant about him wearing the garment since 'All your clothes give off the sour I-hate-people-and-I-hate-life-itself grandpa aesthetic'. Gilbert's description was over-the-top, but Arthur could recognize the truth behind them. His black leather jacket was laying in his lap since the room was too heated for the extra garment to be bearable. The downside was, in Arthur's opinion, that he was showing off his tattoo which was stretching over his left upper arm and resembled all the bad life choices he had made as a teenager. Although, if Arthur was really honest to himself, he still found the tattoo, as Gilbert would phrase it, awesome. 

Still, he was now a gentleman. After all the scolding from his father during his rebellious stage, he came to accept a more peaceful (and more monotonous) lifestyle. His father was delighted when he enrolled in university, gifting him with praises which were missed throughout the time he wanted to become a singer. Now, he noted bitterly, he was baffled at how to let loose and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. He was no saint by any means, but he vowed to maintain his acquired lifestyle and stick to his manners no matter the circumstances. 

This bar was the hothouse of debauchery and Arthur was tempted to return to his old self, if just for one night. These intrusive thoughts adulterated Arthur's mild-mannered persona, hence the British man was so uptight. Arthur wiggled in his seat, skinny jeans sticking uncomfortably to his skin as Alfred crashed into the empty seat beside him. 

"Dude, this place is awesome!" He exclaimed cheerfully, presenting a dubious-looking drink in his hand. "It would only be better if they served hamburgers!" 

Arthur scoffed but listened attentively to his friend's rambling as the voice from the speakers announced the new performer on the stage. Arthur's eyes wandered off slightly as the lights grew even darker, his gaze lured in by the indiscernibly form moving on the stage. He ignored the previous dancers as most of them were not of his taste, but he could not disregard the shrieking sounds of excitement and rounds of applause following the next dancer's appearance. His eyes focused on the grand stage with mere curiosity as Alfred continued his storytelling, this time aimed at Gilbert on his other side. 

As the music flared up, people around the bar erupted into enthusiastic shouts and cheers. Arthur was flabbergasted at how enthralling this one dancer seemed to be, claiming all patrons' attention even before the performance started. And oh my, was the applause rightful. 

The spotlights blazed up, illuminating a slender but muscular figure on the centre stage which Arthur could hardly distinguish in the dazzling whiteness. Once his eyes grew adjusted to the sudden light, he felt his body freeze in its place. His eyes wandered over the expanse of smooth skin, the soft fabric of a pink dress and the majestic flow of blond hair until they settled on two captivating blue orbs. The dancer locked eyes with him for a second, smirk stretching over his glossed lips, before beginning his routine to Beyonce's Partition. 

Arthur felt as if his body was on fire. All his senses zeroed down onto the frame of the man dancing seductively on the stage, completely ignoring Alfred's cheery shouts from beside him. Arthur was sure he didn't blink while he watched the man twirl around the pole, grounding against the metal so obscenely that the British man could not prevent himself from staring with jaws hanging loosely in openmouthed amazement. The dancer's movements were improper, even for a bar of this kind, but he slid down the pole so gracefully and arched his back so magnificently that Arthur was rendered to a mindless mess. He was greatly troubled now, his jeans beginning to feel tighter than he had remembered as the dancer abandoned his abuse on the pole to sweep closer to the end of the stage and bask in the love of his audience. He displayed his body like it was up for auction and the people in the front rows were eager to flash their money in his face or tuck the crispy papers into his pink dress. 

Arthur had never thought that a man in pink short dress and fishnets could be so seductive, but here he was, the embodiment of Arthur's sexy dreams, stripping himself off of the dress (much to the onlookers' approval) and dropping to his knees in nothing but too-tight shorts and a pair of boots whose heels fit the definition of a weapon. Arthur scooted to the edge of his seat, bothered by his sweaty blond locks as they clung to his forehead. He cursed his hair for hindering him from seeing every passing second of the beautiful performance before tucking his hair away and biting his lower lip unconsciously. 

The dancer was groping himself and shaking his hips in a way that was way beyond sinful. Arthur, as reluctant as he was about admitting it, was frustrated. Sexually frustrated. He hadn't felt this bothered by someone in a long time, and he felt even more ashamed of himself that the source of his unpure thoughts was an exotic dancer. A bloody gorgeous one but that was off-topic. Arthur always regarded himself as a gentleman, and yet, he was openly ogling a half-naked man's bulge while said person was grinding their hips off the ground and into someone else's face. How Arthur wished they were seated a bit closer to the stage. He wanted to touch the man even if he knew well that was against the rules. It was a primal urge to drag his hand across the other's skin and devour his mouth in a fierce kiss. It was only natural that goosebumps appeared on Arthur's skin when he thought about corrupting the other man, reducing him to a bubbling mess as he cried out the British man's name. Or Arthur could impale himself on the other, ride both of them into ecstasy while he shouted the other man's name to the Heavens. 

Arthur closed his eyes for a second, disparaging his mind for coming up with such unrealistic and dirty fantasies, but he could not help but continue to stare at the man as his show approached its ending. The overzealous crowd was screaming and chanting as the air became static, the tension almost tactile. All eyes were held hostage at the mercy of this god-like man as he lowered himself into a split, forcing desperate please and cries out of the people around the stage. Arthur marvelled at his flexibility, his perfect body, his smooth skin, his silky hair and his charming smile. 

As the lights turned off, the magic was broken, but its effects were still visible on the British man. Arthur's throat felt dry, a great contrast to his sweaty hands. He felt like exploding with so much tension in his body and no outlet to relieve him from the suffering. His mind went blank, all he craved was the touch of the mysterious man, the dancer who must have been a gift from God or rather a hallucination since it felt more like a lucid dream than reality. Arthur's eyes swept through the crowd, urgently looking for his saviour. The Briton felt like a slave in the hands of the other man whose name remained a secret. How Arthur wished to know the name which would surely be equally as beautiful as the man who wore it. Without the name, what would Arthur scream in ecstasy during his lonely nights? Because without a doubt, this man would rule all his fantasies for a long time. 

"That was awesome, dude," Alfred exclaimed, stating the obvious but Arthur was happy at least one of them could still function after such performance. "Dude, you started drooling!" 

Arthur swiftly wiped away any evidence from his mouth while actively denying the humiliating truth. Gilbert laughed at him shamelessly and Arthur had to remind himself again that friends were a good thing. Although, getting hammered alone didn't seem so repelling now. 

"You're so whipped, man," Alfred's obnoxious laughter always elicited a strange allergic reaction in Arthur. The symptoms were a numbing headache and an itch to bury his fist in the other's facial features. However, this was Alfred's party and he couldn't show up at the wedding with a black eye. Even if it would be justified. "Maybe we should get you a lap dance!" 

"Yeah, awesome idea, Al!" Of course, Gilbert would be one to support such a lunatic proposal. 

"Stop it, you jits," Arthur grumbled, a slight blush making him extra irritated, "I think Alfred got enough ass for all of us tonight," 

"Rude, dude," Alfred retorted but the wicked smile didn't leave his face. He whispered something to Gilbert, trying and failing to be subtle, before rising from his seat with an exaggerated stretch. "Well, guys, I'm off to the bar. Just drinking, you know. Since I'm of legal age." 

Alfred was never a good actor, Arthur noted. At least, there are things which could be relied on not to change. Arthur enjoyed consistency, even if certain people labelled him as 'staid' or 'boring'. Opinions held no significance to Arthur, but it surely wouldn't hurt to be viewed more highly among acquaintances. Still, there was a side of him which he prefered to lock away from the prying eyes of other people, he supposed. No wonder he had no intimate relationships. 

The night progressed faster after the memorable show. Arthur drank fairly little, which in his case was already more than advisable. He almost forgot about beautiful locks of golden hair and mischievous eyes which shone brighter by every time you looked into them. While Arthur was in the midst of a passionate argument with a college girl about Beatles being superior to One Direction, Alfred appeared out of thin air and scooped him up from his place. 

"Dude, I've been looking for you!" Alfred shouted over the music while Arthur fought to escape his iron clunch. He had an important argument to win. "Stop moving around, man, you know I'm stronger than you!" 

Arthur knew it but he definitely did not approve of that fact. Alfred might be a fanatic of junk food, but he was also dedicated to working out. Competitiveness had pushed Alfred to do regular exercise, which consequently earned him a more muscular body than the Briton possessed since the latter tended to forget about breakfast quiet frequently. His cooking skills (or lack thereof) also hindered him from consuming nutritional meals, hence the British man opted to order takeout on most days. Genes came in useful when they made it almost impossible for Arthur to gain weight. He might look like a stick figure on worse days, but he could at least hide that under layers of old sweaters and ugly vests. (His brother's opinion, not his. And who is he to criticise Arthur's fashion sense, anyway?) 

As Arthur constructed the debate inside his head, Alfred managed to drag him away to an isolated section of the bar where the lights were dimmer, the sounds were softer and the air was sweeter. Or maybe Arthur just had way too many drinks. Nevertheless, his friend carried him to a private booth without much resistance from the Briton, and when Arthur was firmly seated on the elegant leather, Alfred finally released his hold on the man. 

"Why did you bring me here?" Arthur asked cautiously, hoping his intuition was wrong this time and Alfred didn't set him up on something without his consent. It wouldn't be the first time. 

"Chill, dude, you look like you're constipated," Alfred did not answer the question, quite the opposite, his response made Arthur even more alarmed. "It's a surprise! For your birthday!" 

"My birthday is another month away," Arthur reasoned but his friend was adamant about his plans. 

"Yeah, so better remember this, 'cause I ain't buying you a thing! Seriously, the amount of cash I'm leaving here because of you is insane, dude." Alfred continued rather vaguely and Arthur was already writing a death note in his head, "This just proves how awesome of a friend I am!" 

"Yeah, you're a real hero," Arthur bit back, but the sarcasm was unnoticed as usual. 

"I know," Alfred straightened himself up with a satisfied smile plastered on his face before his eyes went wide with realisation, "Yeah, so, dude, you just wait here for my super mega surprise and you can thank me tomorrow by taking me to McDonald's! It's gonna be epic, bro, just loosen up. Don't make that face where your eyes look kinda maniac!" 

Arthur's lips moved in a weak attempt to form words but the sounds seemed to get lost between his throat and mouth. He gulped like a fish, feeling uncomfortable and wary about his surroundings when there was no company to distract him. He was clueless about what to do and as curious he might have been about Alfred's little arrangement, new places - especially as shady as this was - left his nerves on edge. He shuffled in his seat, jeans sticking to him like a second skin, and suddenly all he wanted was to go home and settle onto his couch with a good book and some hot tea. 

He was just about to leave and call it a night - having no humour to participate in Alfred's games in his current state - but as he rose to his feet, a familiar wave of blond hair caught his vision. 

"Already leaving, cher?" 

Arthur's carefully crafter demeanour was ravaged instantaneously. Prejudice was something he tenaciously steered clear of, however, his attitude became swiftly distasteful upon recognizing one significant detail about the entering man: he was French. 

Arthur had a widely used reaction to these specific scenarios. It usually involved some swearing, a grimace and an immediate dislike towards the person. Despite that, his feelings were rather conflicting as he gazed up at the gorgeous man who had left him with an awkward boner for half an hour after his performance. 

The dancer was French, and damn it, Arthur never had a thing for French accent (he quite loathed it) but he might be getting a bit hot under the belt just by the way the man rolled his tongue. 

"Your friend said you enjoyed my show," The dancer continued in a husky voice and it took a great amount of self-control for Arthur to listen to the words and not only the plump lips which were forming them. "I hope I didn't break you, though." 

Arthur's heartrate nearly soared at the lighthearted chuckle, which sounded equally adorable and sexy. The Briton was convinced this man was fake. His gaze wandered down the other's exposed body, over his flat but firm stomach, his strong thighs and slender legs which were half-covered with black high-heeled boots. Gone was the pink dress, instead, he was wearing tight blue shorts with a lacey robe hugging his muscular shoulders in a very complimentary way. Arthur had to swallow hard while hoping the other man couldn't see him nearly salivating over his perfect body. Arthur was a gentleman after all, and lusting over cocky French men was not his style. 

As the dancer's eyes remained locked on his form, Arthur realized with mortification that he should have responded instead of checking out the other rather obviously. 

"Bullocks, I mean, no, you... didn't break me," It was probably a lie but how could Arthur confess his feelings when the other was looking at him so intently. Arthur's breath caught in his throat as the man inched forward, and with the gentle guard of his hand, the dancer pushed Arthur back onto the furniture until his back hit the backboard. Breathing was only a secondary function when all Arthur could feel was the light scratch of the French man's stubble on his cheek and his honey-sweet voice in his ear. 

"Good, 'cause I don't want you to break until I touch you," The man's voice sent a whole body shiver down Arthur's spine, and the British man swore his vocal cords were malfunctioning. 

There was a soft, continuous flow of music which enveloped them as the blond man began swaying his hips gently in front of Arthur. He was literally basking in the attention he was receiving from the mesmerized British man, encouraging him to trail his hands down the other's quivering thighs until his palms could settle over the jean-clad knees. He sent a reassuring smile towards the British man when all the reaction his actions earned him was a grimace of uneasiness. He decided to abandon touching the other for now, regardless of how desperately he craved for the proximity and turned around in exchange to show off his backside, which many people had praised before. Arthur's eyes were glued to the beautiful curve of the other man's ass, shaking from side to side in a sway motion, until his mind caught up with the events and he quickly averted his eyes in shame. The dancer looked over his shoulders in hopes of emitting a worthy reaction from the other and growing rather frustrated - if not a bit disappointed - by the scene that greeted him. He had to step up his game. 

With a smooth turn, the blond male returned to his previous place between Arthur's skinny legs, much to the Briton's delight. Nevertheless, Arthur was obliged to remain detached so as his self-image would not be contaminated, therefore, he closed his eyes against the shameless display. His breath hitched in shock as he felt the French man's hot breath tingle the skin behind his ear while the other crawled onto the leather seats. Arthur let out an unmanly yelp as the dancer lowered himself onto his lap, muscular thighs settling on either side of his legs. Arthur's eyes snapped open, only to get absorbed in the endless beauty of the other's eyes. It was like a raging storm inside the other: so fierce and powerful. So destructive. 

Arthur bit his lip nervously and his heart did a flip when he noticed the French man's gaze follow the movement. They locked eyes again, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of the other's mouth as he spoke: 

"And remember, Arthur," Oh God, his name sounded so sinful on those perfect lips! "Hands off the product." 

With a wink, the man placed his hands onto Arthur's hips, sternly holding them as the British man forced his twitching hands into fists. He wanted to touch the other so badly! How he hated those stupid rules for stopping him from enjoying such feasts, especially when it was presented to him. Still, he had to respect the other man. He was doing his job, there was no need to complicate the situation with Arthur being too greedy and selfish. He could keep his hands at his sides. 

Or so he thought as the torture began. First, the man's hands started exploratively stroking his sides before deciding to inch further up Arthur's trembling body. His delicate fingers moved over Arthur's clothed chest, up until the junction of his neck and shoulder where his nails slightly scratched the sensitive skin. The British man felt goosebumps appear on his body wherever the French man's curious hands travelled, and Arthur had to suck in a great amount of air to stop himself from growling. 

"Being a tease is in your job description or is it a French thing?" Arthur finally spat out, fingers crossed that the other wouldn't stop his ministration because of his jabby attitude. 

"Oh, cher, I didn't make a comment about you being a Brit, so let's keep things civil," The other retorted and Arthur had to scoff. 

"What's wrong with British people?" Arthur inquired angrily, knowing full well it was the sexual tension talking. 

"Apart from them being ridiculously stubborn?" The dancer asked with mirth in his voice, hands never ceasing their purposeful adventure on the other's body. "They are très arrogant and insufferable." Arthur's eyes fluttered shut once again as he felt the other's hot breath fan against his neck, "But the most infuriating thing about them is that they are sinfully sexy." 

Arthur was definitely dying. How sweet his death was, and how cruel his tormentor. Some masochistic part of Arthur was beyond turned-on by the turn of events, which the French man could most likely sense since he was so comfortably draped over Arthur's lap. 

"Yeah? Well, French people are intolerable and supercilious." Arthur argued because he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. 

"Really?" The French man purred as his hands wrapped around Arthur's throat. Just a barely-there touch, but it fueled Arthur's arousal to an indescribable degree. "Well, if you really think that then maybe I should just leave." 

His heart was pounding against his chest in panic, but Arthur opted to play it cool. 

"Fuck you," Well, maybe not that cool. 

The French man chuckled again, but it wasn't his sweet cackle. It was more of a deep and alarming sound, something dangerous surfacing from the myths of the other man. The dancer didn't look away from his challenging look as his hands slid upwards towards the British man's mouth, gently placing his thumb over the lower lip and gliding his body against Arthur's heaving chest. 

"How can such a pretty mouth say such dirty things?" The man quizzed, grazing Arthur's lips with his nail. 

"You would know about dirty," Arthur mocked, but the smirk faded from his face as the fingers were replaced with the French man's teeth instead, carefully nibbling on Arthur's lower lip. Arthur's body was overheating from this strange form of foreplay, but he could not help but sigh at the feeling of the other's teeth skimming over his jawline. 

"Oh, I can play dirty," The other man whispered and without a warning, his hands snaked under Arthur's shirt to rake eagerly across the warm flesh. He probably wasn't allowed to give into such primal instincts but this man had a unique effect on him, unlike any of his previous encounters with costumers, or any of his sexual partners for the matter. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

"Do you grope every patron or should I feel special?" Arthur's voice lacked any spite due to the frequent sighs of pleasure that escaped him. 

"Do you want me to stop?" The sincerity of the question surprised Arthur. It was his first glimpse of the other without his typical playful behaviour. 

"No, don't you dare stop," Arthur growled in warning, eliciting another round of giggles from the other. 

"Oh, I knew you were something different, Arthur," The French man crooned before tenderly biting down on Arthur's earlobe for more of those precious sounds. 

"Say it again," Arthur demanded with shaking voice, arching his back slightly and consequently rubbing against the other's body in the process. 

"Qu'est que tu veux dire?" 

He was using French again like the bastard he was. Arthur could swear the other knew how deeply his voice affected the poor man. "My name," Arthur replied, grateful for his teenage years when he was eager about studying foreign languages. "Say it again." 

Arthur felt the other man shift in his lap which made his anxiety reawaken in fear of overstepping his boundaries and perhaps making the other feel uncomfortable, but his worries ebbed as Arthur felt the graceful curl of the other's ass rub against his aching manhood, provoking a loud growl from both men. 

"Arthur," The man's repetitive whispers of his name turned into a deep moan as Arthur bucked his hips up to meet the other's backside once again. 

The sweet friction sent jolts of adrenaline rushing through Arthur's body like a soul wrecking tidal wave, and he could not contain himself anymore. Manners be dammed, he had a man to satisfy. 

"Tell me your name," Arthur pleaded as his hands hesitantly settled over the smooth expanse of skin. When he heard no objection from his partner, he continued his exploration, starting at the other's magnificent hipbone and trailing up his sides as he adored the French man through his gaze. 

"Fran- Francis," The other gritted out between heavy sighs, never stopping his gentle rocking on Arthur's lap. 

"Such a lovely name," Arthur praised as his fingers delicately twirled around the other's blond locks. "Just as beautiful as its owner." 

Francis huffed in amusement before drawing back from Arthur's neck to stare the other in the eye, "Are all British men this sentimental?" 

Arthur smiled predatorily, hands dropping from Francis' hair to sneak around his waist and fondle that perfect arse the way he had ached to do. The erotic sounds that Francis elicited were too tempting for the Briton to not want to hear again. Oh God, what would it sound like when Francis came? 

"No, I'm just a gentleman," Arthur's cocky smirk did wonders to the French man's heart, but he could not express them in a better way than to keep up his ardent grounding over the other man's erection. 

Francis was hard, a surprising and yet inexplicably arousing fact for Arthur not to take advantage of. The British man squeezed the other's round ass one more time, massaging the cheeks and drawing sinful noises from Francis' parted lips. Their foreheads bumped against each other, the French man's blond locks falling around them as he rutted against Arthur. He looked so needy with his desperate whines and fumbling hands which were resolute to decorate the British man's body with light scratches. Francis's hands somehow wound up around Arthur's neck, bringing them even closer, as if he wanted to melt into the other. Everything felt too hot and too much, and yet, it wasn't enough. When Francis bit down on his lower lip, Arthur felt an urgent need to kiss the other and get lost in Francis' body until they didn't know where their bodies ended and where the other started. 

"You have... a tattoo?" Francis' question would have made Arthur self-conscious about his bare arm if his mind wasn't so overclouded by arousal. The French man's ragged breathing only added to his excitement. "Merde, could you be more perfect?" 

The unexpected compliment had Arthur's cheeks flaring up once again, finding it odd that a gorgeous man like Francis would think of him so mightly, though the other seemed like the bold but honest type. There was a familiar burn in Arthur's abdomen which was quite mortifying to realize. He didn't know if he had ever gotten an orgasm in public, especially without being touched or doing anything intimate, even if this did feel like the most intimate thing Arthur had ever experienced. 

Francis' loud growls were reduced to breathy moans and quiet gasps, all contributing to Arthur's ever-building madness. Every movement the other made had succeeded in rilling up the British man even more. His hips moved gracefully and in rhythm with Arthur's thrusts. Every collision of their bodies was followed by a string of grunts and swearwords as their speech was rendered to the minimum. All the sensations - Francis's body moving against his, his erection sliding over Francis's perfect ass, Francis' hot breath fanning against his cheeks - it inundated the Briton to a level where Arthur could not focus on anything other than the tension inside his body. 

"Francis," Arthur breathed, hands caressing the other's back and following the fine line of muscles as he arched under his touch, "I think I'm- I need to-" 

"Yeah I'm close too-" Francis' hurried words ended with an animalistic growl, nails digging into Arthur's skin where they were holding onto his shoulders. 

"Francis- Fuck, I need-" Arthur felt like he was about to combust but he needed just a little bit more to push him over the edge. "I need something-" 

Before he could voice his wish, two greedy lips collided with his, tongue sweeping into the other's parted mouth as Francis enveloped him in a hungry kiss. 

Arthur came with Francis' name on his tongue, body shaking under the other's constant abuse while the French man took as much as he could from the other. Francis's hips stilled over his, mouth parting as a moan was ripped from his throat at his sudden climax. 

Their heavy breathing filled the room, bodies entangled over the ugly leather seats as they slowly began to register the world around them. They bathed in their shared bliss until Francis slowly started to rise from where he had slummed against Arthur's body, looking down at his ruined shorts and sweaty body. When their eyes met, both men burst out into heartfelt chuckles. 

"Well, I have never given such lapdance before," Francis added between fits of giggles, removing himself from Arthur's lap in the process. His legs shook a bit but Francis was too graceful to fall. Arthur, maybe on instinct or in fear of losing his chance, quickly jumped to his feet too. He extended his hand as if he wanted to touch Francis but decided against it in the last second. 

"Uhh... thank you," Arthur was unsure what to say in this situation, he had never come into his pants from simple dry-humping. He really hoped Francis didn't think he was so desperate to literally have sex with an erotic dancer in a striptease bar. Although, Francis also came from their activities, so maybe there was hope. 

"It was my pleasure, cher," Francis said with a flirtatious lilt to his voice. His hands settled onto Arthur's flushed cheeks, stroking his hair behind his ears and then flashing the other a charming smile. "Don't be a stranger. I really enjoyed our time together." 

Arthur's heart sped up at the parting words. He anxiously watched the other man turn around, sensing that their time together was only a fleeting moment. In spite of his inhibitions, Arthur dared to hope for more. As he watched the French man's retreating back, there was a pull at Arthur's heart, nearly choking the words out of him. 

"Dinner?" 

Francis whipped around immediately, wide eyes sparkling with wonder the same way they had on the stage. The British man looked equally obfuscated until he realized that the question came from him indeed. 

"Um, I mean," Arthur was now cracking his knuckles to soothe his nerves, what an unattractive trait, "Do you want to... have dinner with me?... Sometime?" 

Francis was speechless, his expression giving off mixed signals. Nobody had ever waited this long to reject Arthur, that was sure. It was extremely unnerving because Francis must think that he was a creep now. Arthur was already plotting an escape plan, probably involving a forced smile and some weak lie about how he was just kidding, but then the other man's face lit up in a way Arthur had never witnessed before. It was a beautiful sight to behold, a vibrant smile so youthful and open. 

"What an unconventional way of asking me out on a date," Francis spoke up in amusement, but his voice was elated and soft, "Are you free on Friday?" 

Arthur blinked several times as if he wanted to ascertain the sincerity of the question, "Well, I have work but I'm sure I can arrange something-" 

Before he could finish his sentence, Francis cornered in on him. The proximity reawakened that twisting feeling in his chest, and with a rapidly beating heart, he allowed the other man to reach into the pockets of his too-tight jeans, not missing the way the French man shamelessly groped his butt in the process. The blond pulled out a phone and wiggled it in front of Arthur's eyes with an amused smirk on his offensively handsome face until the Briton got the message and unlocked the device. After some typing, Francis handed the phone back with yet another wink. 

"My number," He clarified as if Arthur had never been given a phone number before. 

"I've dated people before, you prat, I know how this thing works," Arthur retorted with a deliberate grumble in his voice, wishing the other would wipe the self-satisfied smirk off of his face. 

"Oh, I had no doubt about that," Francis said, his hands lingering on Arthur's while the British man seized his phone back, "Who would miss out on the opportunity to taste this sexy body?" Francis asked in a husky voice, feeling up Arthur for his own sadistic entertainment. The Brit was clueless about why he found the other man attractive. His voluptuous body could not compensate for his arrogancy and flagrant behaviour. His flamboyancy and ardent demeanour were a great contrast to Arthur's sombre countenance, he supposed. There was also something inextricably thrilling in the way Francis looked at him, so feral and unashamed. Even now, as he stepped closer to Arthur, there was a delicious shiver following the trace of the French man's lips which were idly roaming his exposed neck: "I have no objection against sex on the first date." 

Arthur spluttered at the bold admission, only scowling at the other when Francis leaned back to witness the blossoming heat as it spread across the shorter man's cheeks. Arthur was still pouting as the man gracefully turned towards the exit, hair flowing around his face like waves gently caressing the shore. The British man couldn't restrain from letting his eyes wander over the captivating body of his (hopefully) soon-to-be lover, taking a special interest in the other's alluring backside. 

"I don't mind the staring," Francis spoke up, stopping halfway through his overdramatic walk as if he could sense the British man's eyes on him. He flashed Arthur a smug smile when he caught the other red-handed, "You already know my body." 

"I'm sorry," Arthur responded as he averted his eyes. Regardless of his job, Francis deserved to be treated with the utmost respect of the man. However, Francis apparently found enjoyment in his strict manners. 

"You're so rigid, Arthur," Francis reposted without any malice in his voice. 

"I'm trying to be a gentleman," Arthur argued, but to his mortification, Francis' devilish smile only widened. 

"You don't need to be gentle with me, cher," Francis declared, eyes twinkling with mischief, "I like it when it's rough." 

For the umpteenth time on that night, Arthur was quelled to silence. Nevertheless, his eyes remained focused on the other's retreating form as a giddy feeling undertook his body. 

Then, he remembered that it was all Alfred's idea in the first place, and he had to bite his lips in vexation when he realized that he would have to thank that idiot for possibly getting him a boyfriend for his birthday.


End file.
